


Loss

by Mishael



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12097752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishael/pseuds/Mishael
Summary: My responses (portrayed as character responses) to stories written by others that left me shattered.





	1. Response to What of Friends, Indeed (Eirian Erisdar)

**Author's Note:**

> This first one was written months ago in response to a story by Eirian Erisdar called _What of Friends, Indeed_. Her story reflects Eli's reactions to Thrawn's seeming change of character between the novel ( _Thrawn_ ) and the show ( _Star Wars Rebels_ ). The story is masterfully written, and it left my heart in pieces for quite some time. I wrote the bit below in the hope that it might help ease the pain. It may also be found as a postscript to her story, found here:
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12504105/1/What-of-Friends-Indeed 
> 
> It is recommended that the original story be read first.

_What can sever a friendship?_

_Time and distance?_

_Irreconcilable differences?_

_Betrayal?_

_Death?_

_No. Not for a true friend. There may be moments of disagreement, periods of anger, some necessary separation. There may even be an altercation, harsh words exchanged that pierce deeper than any physical blow. But that cannot damage pure, abiding friendship._

_Not unless one allows it._

_Friendship cannot be broken by any external source. Only when one chooses to abandon it will it be truly lost._

_I cannot forsake a friend. Perhaps it is a failing of mine, but I will embrace such a weakness without regret. True friendship is far too priceless to cast aside when the tempests of life threaten to shatter it. When my own actions bring another to the breaking point._

_Even as I watch him walk away, perhaps forever. As long as he remains true to who he is, to the one I have come to respect, I will be content._

_Even if I am not happy._  
_____________

The brush made a soft scraping sound as Thrawn laid it gently aside. He stared intently at the strokes filling the page spread out on his desk, the stylized Cheunh letters flowing in a swirl of black and red. He had done nothing to blot away the blood that had spilled as he wrote, allowing it to mix with the ink. It was fitting, he thought.

By the time the Chimaera jumped to its next assignment, the words hung framed on the wall beside the door to his private chamber. 

He would never forget.


	2. Response to Like a Dead Star (moomkin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in response to moomkin's story _Like a Dead Star_ , which explored a possible reaction by Eli if he were to discover that Thrawn had been lying to him - and had learned the truth from someone other than Thrawn himself. Eli went to extreme measures in that story, and this is an attempt to show Thrawn's own reaction to what happened at the end. The story may be found here:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11784666/chapters/26574486
> 
> Again, it is recommended that the original story be read first.
> 
> Also, moomkin wanted me to change some of the details because it hurt too much, but I chose not to. She subjected us to pain first!

“Th-thra-a-awn...”

“Eli!” Thrawn was on his feet immediately, the palms of his hands striking the desk with enough force to jar the holoprojector. The image shivered briefly. “ELI!”

The figure on the other end didn’t respond. He was clutching at his chest, his eyes wide and rapidly filling with fear. Thrawn stared, feeling more helpless than he had ever felt before.

“Admiral! Anyone! Get in there now!” he all but yelled, his fist pounding the desk uselessly. Where were they? Were they not monitoring him?! Someone should have entered the room the moment Eli put those pills in his mouth, carrying him off to the medbay to empty his stomach before they had a chance to do irreparable damage. Why was nobody there reacting to this?

Then, to his increasing horror, Eli fell out of his chair, collapsing onto the floor. “Eli, stay with me!” His voice was strained and rough with emotion, but he didn’t care. Thrawn tried desperately to change his angle of view, knowing it was futile. His movements would do nothing to change the holoprojector’s image, and he knew that; but he was desperate. Eli was no longer visible. The holoprojector displayed only the faintest of blues, an empty screen with nothing but an empty room beyond it.

Empty. The word hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.

Eli was gone.

Thrawn’s legs gave out, and he fell back into his chair, unable to move. He could not breathe. He could not feel anything but the painful squeezing pressure in his chest. 

Something deep within him had just died.

The holoprojector image sat shimmering in front of him, mocking, silent. He could not turn it off. His body would not respond to his commands. Even so, if he ended the connection—

—his eyes closed as he fought to breathe. As long as the connection remained open, there was still a chance everything could turn out all right.

No. That was ridiculous. If Eli was truly gone, then that wouldn’t—

His body twitched, and he bent forward over his desk, his hands clenched tightly. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. None of it made sense. This was nothing but a nightmare, conjured up by the concern that had risen when he heard from Admiral Ar’alani about Eli’s arrival and subsequent breakdown. This was merely a worst-case-scenario playing out in his troubled dreams. If he could wake himself up, things would be back to how they should be. Things would be manageable. He could avert a disaster such as this.

His right hand moved, sliding across the cold surface of his desk. Then it pulled at a narrow drawer just to the side of him, the hissing of metal against metal unnaturally loud in his ears. His fingers moved intentionally, immediately landing on the carved handle of a small blade he kept there.

His eyes never moved from the holoprojector. That was his only link to Eli. He wasn’t ready to let it go yet.

 _No_ , he reminded himself. _This isn’t real. And now I will wake up._

The blade of the knife slid across the palm of his left hand with a slight sting. He closed the hand into a fist, waiting, an unshakeable sense of dread falling over him like a heavy blanket, smothering him.

Why didn’t he wake?

Finally tearing his eyes away from the holoprojector, he looked down at his hand as he opened it again. It was covered with blood, the knife glinting in the light, its edge lined with red.

His breath caught in his throat, even as his mind told him that he knew all along that this was real. And now...he had Eli’s blood on his hands.

He choked.

The door across the room slid open quietly. “Sir? Is everything all right? You haven’t been answering your comm.”

Thrawn didn’t even look up. He couldn’t look away from the crimson stain flowing down his hand and dripping onto his desk.

“Leave me.”

His voice was low, but thankfully the officer heard enough to know not to argue. Without another word, he backed out of the room and let the door close once more.

Eli was dead. Eli was dead, and it was because of him. Eli, who had stood by him, who had so much skill and potential, who had so much _goodness_...

Thrawn watched as his blood continued to drip from his hand. 

Sometimes, there were no good choices, and one had to choose the least damaging. Sometimes, the unexpected could bring disaster despite making the right choices. And sometimes, one simply did not make the right choice.

Had Eli died on a mission, it would have been devastating, but he would have sacrificed his life in moving the galaxy toward a better goal. It would have been bearable, in time. But no, he had taken his own life under the crushing weight of betrayal.

Thrawn had never meant to betray him, had never considered that he was betraying him. Some information he had to keep secret, by order of those above him and by the nature of his mission. Other information he simply did not consider worth mentioning, as it had no immediate impact on the situation at hand and then was simply out of mind. Never would he have imagined a reaction such as this. And had he known...

He savored the sting in his hand, although it failed to overshadow the piercing pain in his heart.

It was all because Thrawn had allowed himself to grow close to him. Too close. Had they maintained a strictly professional relationship, rather than crossing the line into friendship, then perhaps the revelation of the truth wouldn’t have hit him so hard. Eli might have been angry, yes, but he would have understood that it was nothing personal—because there would have been nothing personal between them.

It hurt. Did it always hurt like this?

Thrawn rarely made friends, true friends. Given his current position and the tasks that he needed to accomplish, he couldn’t afford another incident like this. Already, he felt himself on the verge of breaking, and he couldn’t allow that. The end goal was too important, affected too many people, to allow heartbreak over the loss of a friend to—

He closed his eyes again, his throat tightening. It wasn’t simply the loss of a friend that brought him to the edge like this. It was the fact that _he_ was the reason Eli was gone. He was supposed to protect, not extinguish—

Grief gripped his throat, tearing an uncharacteristic sob from him.

A quiet sound from the holoprojector made his head shoot up, and he immediately straightened. Admiral Ar’alani sat at the other end, watching him wordlessly.

“Admiral,” he murmured, once he was able to catch his voice.

“I am sorry to report—” she began.

“I understand, Admiral.” Thrawn immediately cut her off, unable yet to hear the truth confirmed. “I apologize—for—”

“This was not what I expected when you said you were sending someone to help.”

“I know.” Thrawn bowed his head, releasing a quiet sigh as he gathered himself. If he was to continue this mission, he had to make a decision here and now. And there was no one else who could take his place. He had no choice. “I assure you, it will not happen again.”

“Take care that it doesn’t.” Her gaze sharpened as she studied him. “You have an unfortunate softness for humans, but never forget that they are not Chiss. You cannot treat them as such.” Her eyes narrowed. “I would have expected you, of all people, to know that,” she added in a low voice.

“As I said, it will not happen again,” Thrawn repeated, keeping his head bowed. The pain in his heart increased, but he refused to allow it to show on his face.

Ar’alani stared at him a moment longer before her grim expression softened ever so slightly. “I will contact you again soon, after you have had some time. We will need to decide what to do with this.”

Thrawn’s eyes burned. _This._ Reduced to “ _this_ ” as if it was merely a troublesome situation rather than the death of a dream, of a hope, of a future...of a flicker of light in a growing ocean of darkness. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it, not without risking his voice to betray his emotion. “Of course. Thank you, Admiral. I will await your signal.”

She nodded tersely, and then the connection was cut off.

It was done. He was truly gone.

Thrawn took a deep breath. Sacrifice was no stranger to him. He had already given up many things for this cause. What was one more? He already knew there was too much darkness in his past to claim to be a part of the light, but neither did he have to draw so close as to be friends with it in order to save it.

He just hoped he never lived to see himself become its enemy.

Rising from his chair, he crossed the room to retrieve a medkit, returning to his desk to inspect its contents. He passed by the bacta patch, choosing instead to treat his hand by more traditional means. The mark would likely leave a scar as a result, and he hoped it would. It would serve as a reminder to himself of the cost of growing too careless. A reminder of his loss. A reminder of what he was fighting for.

Because he never wanted to forget.


End file.
